April is National Poetry Month. In honor of this I am reading a book of poetry by American poet, Galway Kinnell. A coworker of mine, who is himself a poet, urged me to give the book a try. What is nice about this particular volume of poetry is it comes with a CD of Kinnell reading his poems and he usually gives a brief commentary of them as well. He has a really nice speaking voice--it's sort of nice just to sit back and listen. Sometimes I listen to the poems being read, other times I will read along as Kinnell reads them aloud, and I will also just read them on my own. I know there is no right or wrong way to read poetry (or is there?), so it sort of feels a little strange. I have just been picking the book up now and then and reading a poem or two at random. I have never been much of a poetry reader, so I am not exactly sure how to talk about what I am reading. Maybe I should just share one of the poems?
The book's title comes from Walt Whitman's "Last Invocation" ("Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,/ Strong is your hold O love."). According to the publisher's website: "In this striking and various collection, he gives us poems of intermingling with the natural world, love poems and evocations of sexuality, poems about his father, his children, poet friends, poet heroes, and mythic figures. Included also is 'When the Towers Fell,' his stunning requiem for those who died in the World Trade Center on 9/11". I wish I could share the spoken poem with you, but aside from the fact I'm not sure how to add audio, that may be a copyright no-no. If you would like to hear him read a poem, you can click here--he reads "After Making Love We Hear Footsteps". And here is a poem from Strong is Your Hold:
Shelley
When I was twenty the one true
free spirit I had heard of was Shelley,
Shelley who wrote tracts advocating
atheism, free love, the emancipation
of women, and the abolition of wealth and class,
a lively version of Plato's Symposium,
lyrics on the bliss and brevity
of romantic love, and complex
poems on love's difficulties, Shelley
who, I learned later--perhaps
almost too late--remarried Harriet,
then pregnant with their second child,
and a few months later ran off with Mary,
already pregnant with their first, bringing
along Mary's stepsister Claire,
who very likely also became his lover,and in this malaise a trois, which Shelley
said would be a "paradise of exiles,"
they made their life, along with spectres
of Harriet, who drowned herself in the Serpentine,
and Mary's half sister Fanny, who, fixated
on Shelley, killed herself, and with the spirits
of adored but neglected children
conceived almost incidentally
in the pursuit of Eros--Harriet's
Ianthe and Charles, denied to Shelley
and sent out to foster parents, Mary's
Clara, dead at one, her Willmouse, dead at three,
Elena, the baby in Naples, almost surely
Shelley's own, whom he "adopted" but then
left behind, dead at one and a half,
and Allegra, Claire's daughter by Byron,
whom Byron packed off to the convent
at Bagnacavallo at four, dead at five--and in those days, before I knew
any of this, I thought I followed Shelley,
who thought he was following radiant desire.--Galway Kinnell